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CROWMON’S CONGREGATION was deep in the middle of an orgy when the priests and priestesses felt a disturbance in the barrier that protected the shrine. The power in the shrine was growing as Halloween drew ever closer. It was only eleven weeks away now.
“Someone is trying to get through the shield,” Brycen said. The elf was average height for his kind. He had a slender body, thick black hair and black eyes. He’d slept with most of the women in Crowmon’s congregation. They found his inhuman beauty to be irresistible.
“Go and see who it is,” one of the priestesses said as she watched the orgy rage on. The priests and priestesses didn’t usually get involved in the naked frenzy, unless Crowmon and Vella rutted in front of them. Then it was always a free for all as everyone got caught up in it.
Brycen frowned at the witch for ordering him around, but he didn’t bother to call her out on it. She was just a lowly mortal and she would die in another couple of decades, but they were all supposed to be equal. He mentally rolled his eyes at that ridiculous notion. He edged around the revelers and hurried over to the shimmering barrier. “Ugh, it’s Xiara Evora!” he called out when he saw the huntress’ platinum blonde hair. “What the hell does she want this time?” he muttered.
“I’ll tell Crowmon the Guardian of Nox is here!” the witch called back, then began trotting towards the large wooden house on the far side of the grove where he was sequestered with Vella.
Brycen watched Ms. Evora place her palm against the barrier and push against it. It tried to repel her, but she somehow forced her fingers through it. With a smirk, Brycen muttered a spell that turned his fingers into claws. He grabbed the executor’s hand and she jerked it back. He let out a giggle when blood flowed from the deep scratches he’d torn in her fingers. The hole closed over, sealing her on the outside again. He released the spell and his fingers returned to normal.
“I’ll take over from here, lad,” Crowmon said, appearing behind the priest a moment later.
“As you wish, my lord,” the elf said. He gave the god a deep bow, then returned to his vigil over the orgy.
Crowmon had a feeling he knew why Xiara Evora was here. The Guardian of Nox was far too nosy for her own good. Her lips were pressed together tightly in anger at being denied entry to his shrine. “If that’s how they want to play this, then fine,” she said. She pressed the tip of her staff’s long blade against the barrier and it flared bright white with holy light. “Yep, they’re definitely using black magic,” she muttered. “Let’s pop this giant bubble and see what they’re hiding.” Her staff pulsed, then it started cutting his way through the shield.
Alarm flared through the trickster god when he realized the huntress might actually be able to penetrate his magical barrier. Wrath blazed even brighter, then its divine light began to spread as it weakened the magic that had been used to create the shield. Ms. Evora’s eyes went wide when she saw flashes of priests and priestesses wearing crow masks and robes standing in front of the podium. Their robes were now black and green rather than red and green. Dead vampires lay in front of the shrine as the congregation performed sexual acts on each other.
Crowmon teleported behind the intruder and spoke. “Now, now, lass,” he said in a chiding tone. “It isn’t polite to interrupt the worship of my followers.”
Yanking Wrath out of the barrier, Xiara spun around to confront him. She raked her gaze over him from head to toe, noting that his hat was gone, the bells on his shoes were missing and the red side of his suit had darkened. “What’s happening to you?” she asked him bluntly.
“I’m evolving,” he said, holding his arms out wide to display his changed outfit. “I’m becoming more than just a minor trickster god.”
“What are you becoming?” she asked for clarification.
“I’m not sure yet,” he replied with a smirk. “Only time will tell.” That much was true. Vella had told him he would be a god-king, but she hadn’t gone into detail. Maybe she didn’t know exactly what he would become.
“I know your priests and priestesses are trying to start a war between the human magic users and the vampires,” the huntress told him.
He widened his eyes in fake surprise. “Who told you that, Ms. Evora?”
“I figured it out on my own,” she said. “I know they’re sacrificing vampires to you, which is why you’re changing into whatever this is.” She gestured at his costume.
“Have you advised the Immortal Triumvirate about your suspicions, lass?” Crowmon asked in a forced casual tone.
“Not yet, but someone will come forward soon and they’ll order me to investigate. The murders can all be traced back to your people and who do you think they’ll order me to execute?”
Crowmon made a show of thinking about it, but he was barely able to contain his glee. “I’ll speak to my High Priestess and advise her of your concerns,” he told her. “Now, if you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of a sermon.” With a click of his fingers, he vanished behind the now intact barrier.
The trickster watched Xiara Evora fume in silence, then she turned and stomped away. He mockingly waved goodbye to her back, then teleported back to the house his followers had built for him. It was large, but sparingly furnished. Gods didn’t need to eat, but he’d had a kitchen installed for Vella. His High Priestess liked to cook and their combined magic produced enough food for his entire congregation. None of them were at risk of starving.
“What did Xiara Evora want, my lord?” Vella asked as she stirred a pot on the stove.
“She knows I’m behind the unrest between the vampires and the witches and wizards,” he said as he strolled over to a couch. It was leafy green, as were the armchairs. His dining table could seat ten and was made of silver wood. The chairs were the same, but they were comfortably padded in green fabric for the comfort of his beloved. Shelves lined one wall of the living room. They were filled with the trinkets he’d stolen from the uncursed population over the years. Some were priceless artifacts he’d acquired from fairies, elves, vampires and shifters.
Vella’s dark eyes widened in alarm. “Is she going to tell the Immortal Triumvirate what she knows?” she asked.
“I doubt it,” Crowmon said in dismissal. “She hates them as much as I do.” He’d figured that out from their interaction over the years. He still felt annoyed that the huntress had fooled him into thinking she was just another brainless Night Cursed fool. She’d remembered every conversation they’d ever had and had only pretended to forget him. The laugh would be on her and on the creatures who had created her once his plan went into action.
“We will prevail, my lord,” Vella said, seeing his expression darken. “Nothing will be able to stop you from achieving your goals.”
“I will be a king as well as a god,” he agreed and smiled at the shifter indulgently as she went back to stirring her stew.
